


The Caretaker's Secret

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark One Belle, F/M, Magic, Role Reversal, Rumbelle Christmas in July, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7530568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Ogres overrunning the Frontlands, the Duke makes a deal with the Dark One: His land and people's safety for the life of a frightened, battered spinner. The Dark One, Belle, can't understand what's so great about this man, but senses something very useful about him all the same and accepts the bargain...which is more than she was expecting entirely...</p>
<p>RCIJ Prompt: "DO!Belle's caretaker has magic."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Caretaker's Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ml101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ml101/gifts).



> Merry Christmas [in July] ml101/wierdogal! Enjoy!
> 
> Beta'd by Maplesyrup, and NOT part of my regular DO!Belle 'verse.

* * *

_The end of his chance at a good, normal life began with a cup of water..._

* * *

A plea from the Duke of the Frontlands drew the Dark One to his stronghold in the early spring. Well, to be honest, it was the _only_ stronghold in the Frontlands at this juncture, anything else resembling a structure demolished by Ogres over the course of fifteen years of war. Along with most of the young. If you could find anyone between the ages of twelve and forty with all their limbs attached, they'd either dodged the draft or were half-mad with the trauma of battle no one mentioned in great ballads.

Another cause for the haggard far-too-few faces of the refugees hiding behind the crumbling walls was the inevitable famine that came when farmers couldn't tend to their crops and the game fled to safer fields. Or were also dead by Ogre hands. Then there was various illnesses that came with death-tainted water and cramped quarters as the courtyard filled with people and, quite honestly, it was a cesspool of desperation and grief.

The Dark One, Belle, _almost_ found their united despair too much to handle.

Only something kept drawing her to the barely defended castle. It wasn't the Duke's whining for help, either. He could go march into the maw of a dragon for all she cared, he killed two baby Ogres and wounded a third that so enraged the mountain-dwelling Ogres that the whole damned war began!

No, this was something different, something very different. She could feel it wriggling around on the edge of her awareness, like a far-off sound outside the joke of a throne room. (The tapestries had been burnt or were absolutely filthy, and clearly the maids weren't on duty anymore...not that Belle could mock anyone else's housekeeping skills.) The Duke had sent her a letter and the promise of so much gold that Belle wondered where the hell he was keeping it all. Another reason he could take a long walk into a hungry dragon.

Monetary value held little interest for the Dark One. Belle could summon up a pile of gold twice as big and twice as pure as the Duke's offering, if she wanted. In fact, looking at the fat, greasy-haired man sitting in his finery with his exotic animal-skin cloak, Belle almost left on-sight. He never cared about his people, viewed his responsibilities as Duke a bother while overindulging in the benefits he hadn't earned. If anyone should be torn apart by Ogres, it was this... _man_.

Belle turned her nose up at the offering and turned to sashay away when the Duke unwedged his fat ass from the chair and said, "Wait! Wait! There's something else, Dark One, that we have to offer!"

_'I doubt that,'_ Belle rolled her eyes, but lightly spun back around. "Yes?"

The Duke clapped his hands and two knights came in from a sight door, dragging a man between them in a way that was almost laughable. He was such a small man, hardly larger than Belle, and at first she'd assumed it was some kind of rug. Because he was nothing but skin and bones, wrapped in filthy, tattered rags that hung like a sack off his gaunt frame. Bits of straw stuck in his snarled, graying brown hair and to the stained rags and Belle only realized he was _alive_ when the two knights threw him down in front of her and he gave the smallest, most pathetic whimper, hunching over where he sat on his knees like he expected to be kicked.

"You're offering me a..." Belle cocked her head to the side, studying the shivering body. "Living corpse?"

One of the knights snorted but the Duke simply shook his head.

"This cripple came to my guards in the middle of the night some months ago, asking for a deal. He said that he knew how to stop the Ogres from overrunning the Western plains, by drawing back our forces. Naturally we assumed he was mad but, well..."

The Ogres had charged over the Western plains in the Frontlands three months ago. It was that harsh time in winter when spring was so very close, but still smothered by cold, and food ran scarce. The Ogres were starving, and once they ran across the plains...everything made of meat was devoured on sight.

They would have just starved or turned back if there hadn't been a convenient feast of soldiers spread out waiting for them.

Belle took her eyes from the man, (who might have been sobbing now in near-silence, but that wasn't an unusual occurrence for peasants at her feet, was it?) to the Duke, and folded her hands behind her back. "What does that fascinating tragedy have anything to do with me?"

The Duke shrugged, looking rather helpless. "He...well, we imprisoned him, of course, but...we're desperate, Dark One, and when he kept telling a guard we should summon you...we really had no other options left. He said if we offered you his life, you would make a deal."

Belle almost laughed at that. This little thing? He was already half-dead, he reeked of fear, and hopelessness, and that pungent unwashed body and musty straw smell only prisoners had. He was pathetic.

But there was _something_ about him that had Belle's senses buzzing like mad. There was something she was missing, either that the Duke was hiding or too stupid to notice, and it was something about this man. Then he had to lift his head slightly and wide, dark eyes had to peek out from that tangled curtain of hair, pleading and frightened in the way of a half-tamed animal.

And Belle had always been a sucker for soft, brown-eyed animals. Well, shit.

If nothing else, once she fattened him up a bit he could serve as some sort of caretaker. The place was filthy, even if it was supposed to be the Dark Castle, Belle could live without the cobwebs. Maybe she could teach him to read a little and sort out her library, too.

But for the sake of appearances, Belle smiled saccharinely at the little urchin, leaning down far enough to nearly be nose-to-nose with him. She tilted her head to one side, humming as she studied him. He was probably closer to fifty than forty, with careworn lines and the dark circles under his wild eyes and the fine layer of unkempt stubble dusting his sunken cheeks. To her surprise, the man did not flinch when she was this close, though he still shivered like a leaf in the wind, and his gaze had dropped so that she assumed he was looking at her nose instead of her eyes.

She giggled, giving his snarled head a quick little pet. She thought she felt him for momentarily slack under her hand and wondered if she imagined it, even as she grinned at the Duke.

"I'll take him."

* * *

_Men riding cows into battle._

_Men riding cows into battle._

_An empty battlefield of crushed bodies and dead horses._

_Men riding cows into battle._

_It seemed like nonsense, such utter nonsense. He was going mad. That was the only explanation...until one man mentioned "the cows", which were saddled horses, and suddenly a cold feeling of dread washed over him. Every man who went into battle behind those "cows" would die. He couldn't die. He was going to be a father, he and Milah were going to have a child. He couldn't abandon the child he didn't even know yet, he couldn't._

_The hammer sitting so innocuously to the side looked perfectly innocent._

_Up until the moment it crushed his foot inside his boot..._

* * *

Belle would get to work on the Ogres as soon as she settled whatshisname somewhere in her castle.

She transported them to a room that overlooked the forest of pines that surrounded the Dark Castle on three sides. There was a hot tub of water waiting for him with simple soap and a warm towel, and a clean linen tunic and pants spread out on the bed. The room itself was a rather simple one, one of the servants quarters if she wasn't mistaken, an enviable room because it was the only one to have a window.

It was mostly just a bed (freshly made, she was not a total monster,) and dresser and small table with a wooden chair, a hand-braided rug on the floor and a night stand with a candle. It was certainly better than a dungeon.

She gave the man (what was his name?) a light nudge towards the tub when he just gaped at his new surroundings. "You wash up and I'll go see about liquefying some Ogres. Oh," she turned around, as thought it were an afterthought. "And if you leave the castle you won't live to regret. Because you'll probably be dead. Bye!"

And with that, she vanished in a puff of smoke. She left the door of his room unlocked, but put up wards blocking him from leaving. Just in case. Then, Belle turned her attention towards fulfilling the Duke's request to take care of the Ogres. And it was very soothing, in a way.

By the time Belle was finished, just after noon that day, hordes of Ogres had been replaced with large swathes of Monarch butterflies.

She returned to the Dark Castle, finished with both the Ogre-Butterflies and the Duke, and in the mood for a nice cup of tea. Belle stopped in the Great Room to pick up a book she left behind before summoning a spot of tea to the library, when she was confronted with an unexpected scene: A steaming cup of tea already on the table, and a little plate of sandwiches.

And the man, cleaned up and leaning on a broom as if it were a staff, was standing there with a full mouth he nearly choked on when he noticed her staring at him. He swallowed down whatever he had (probably a sandwich,) and coughed, brushing crumbs off his gaunt face.

"I-I, uh, I m-made tea, a-and lunch. I-is that alright, m'lady?" he stammered, swaying a bit on his feet.

He wasn't wearing shoes; Belle wished he was. His right foot was puffy and discolored, twisted and covered with fat scars. She eyed it and with barely a thought, she turned his broom into a proper staff, straight and sturdy oak. She thought about just healing the foot altogether, but at the same time, he certainly couldn't get away in _that_ condition, could he? So, Belle perched herself on the edge of the table and picked up the teacup, giving it a small sip. She expected it to be just tea, but instead, it had exactly the right amount of cream in sugar in there.

Well, she was definitely keeping him now, magic or no magic. A good cup of tea was a flawless reference in Belle's book.

"Mmm," she hummed, draining the cup. "Perfect. So. Do you have a name?"

"Uh, y-yes, um, Rumpelstiltskin, m'lady."

Belle nodded. "Very well, Rumpelstiltskin. Hmm. So, I s'pose if you're going to stay here-which you are,-you'll have to pull your own weight. As of right now, you are my caretaker. You will dust and sweep, launder, serve tea, cook the hearts of children for my dinner-"

The poor man had her empty cup in his hand then...and it fell from his slack fingers at that.

She heard the porcelain crack and saw all the color drain from his thin face and felt the tiniest bit of guilt.

"Not serious," she waggled a finger. "I don't eat people, people are nasty. You may breathe now."

"I...I...o-okay, oh. Oh!"

Suddenly he dropped to his knees and Belle watched him scoop up her cup. There was a big piece missing out the rim, a perfect triangle lying on the ground he plucked with his trembling fingers. The poor man's hands were shaking so badly at this point that it was a wonder he didn't drop the cup again.

"I-it's...chipped, I-I'm sorry," he swallowed, terrified brown eyes meeting her flat blue ones. "M-maybe I could-"

" _Rumpelstiltskin_ ," Belle prodded his shoulder with her black-painted toes, leaning forward a bit on the table. "It's only a cup."

He shivered a little under her foot, and dropped his eyes back down to the cup with a jerky nod. Gods. Everything about this man screamed submissive and frightened. Belle was almost tempted to pet his tousled hair and see if he'd relax. Maybe he was some sort of tame werewolf?

Oh well, she'd figure him out eventually...

* * *

_The smell of pipe smoke and ale._

_The roar of many voices and bawdy humor._

_The clink of coins at a gambling table._

_He sat rocking his son into sleep, still dressed in his soldier's garb and the thud of the door still ringing in his ears. Milah had stormed out in complete disgust, and he couldn't bring himself to blame her entirely...but their son was warm and safe. Just as he should be. Just as Rumpelstiltskin would try to always keep him._

_Unlike his father, who'd more often than not used him as an excuse to have city guards leave him alone before going back to his wastrel ways. It could have been a memory of those nights, spent sitting in a corner as quiet and small as he could, that was playing behind his eyes, reminders of his loveless, fatherless childhood that Baelfire would never know..._

_If only he didn't recognize the woman at the table..._

* * *

Belle decided that, first off, Rumpelstiltskin was not a werewolf because he should have turned on his fifth night if that were the case. He wasn't a vampire because her sparse jokes about cannibalism or blood made him very pale and ill-looking. He wasn't a selkie because he didn't show an interest in escaping to the sea. He wasn't a fairy or hobgoblin because he regularly tended to the fire with an iron poker unscathed. Whatever magic he had, it was not because he was inhuman.

She'd caught him on his hands and knees scrubbing with a splintering brush once, which made sense since he didn't have the balance for a mop, but for days afterwards his hands had been blistered and raw and painful-looking. Belle had given him a pair of boots to wear, and he wore them, but he either didn't realize the dresser in his room had fresh clothes or he kept insisting on wearing the same clothes he'd changed into on his first day. His stubble was growing into a proper beard now, and not a very good one, so Belle gave him a razor.

The hollow look in his brown eyes made her enchant it not to pierce skin.

Belle was missing _something_ , she could feel it. Rumpelstiltskin seemed to grow grayer and smaller over the first fortnight. When he brought her dinner out tonight, she saw his eyes were lined with dark circles and deeper worry lines.

A long-buried part of Belle wanted to sit him down in the chair and insist he eat the bowl of stew himself. Her fingers itched to press against his forehead to check for fever, and the words _'Are you okay?'_ kept dancing on the tip of her tongue, but all that spilled out was, "Is something the matter, Rumple?"

She couldn't quite bring herself to spit out the whole jumble of syllables that was his given name. He didn't seem to mind her nickname though. He also simply shifted on his feet, not bothering to raise his head as he so often did these days.

"No, m'lady."

Belle didn't buy it, but for tonight, she let the matter drop. She had some thinking to do, and from the way he scurried away, Rumpelstiltskin wasn't in the mood to be questioned either.

Despite his ridiculous name and dirt-poor homeland, Rumpelstiltskin was very intelligent. He could read at least a little, because Belle found the books she'd had strewn all over the library and Great Room were being put away in their proper places now. (It made them easier to find, who would have thought?) He was also clever, trying a rag to the end of a long pole to wash windows instead of daring to scale a ladder with that ruined ankle of his.

And quick-witted: She forgot why exactly she asked him, but there had been a fair amount of eye-rolling and sarcasm on her part when she asked him how much dirt was in a hole three feet deep and three feet wide.

"None, m'lady," he shook his head and maybe, _maybe_ there was the smallest, slyest, shyest of smiles tugging at his thin lips. "All the dirt has been dug out of the hole."

If the Evil bloody Queen hadn't demanded her right then, Belle would have either challenged him to a contest of riddles or crushed him in an embarrassing hug. Clever wit was a commodity sorely lacking in most of Belle's day-to-day encounters. (The incident with Regina that mainly consisted of the Queen throwing a tantrum and stomping her foot over _Snow White, Snow White, Snow White!_ only served to prove that point.) And Belle wouldn't admit that she'd sought out more of her caretaker's company afterwards...

But she wouldn't deny it either.

Still...intelligence was one thing. Intuition? That was another.

He knew how she took her tea, down to the days she craved more bourbon and cream than actual tea in the cup. Belle had never told him about her mild alcoholic tea addiction, and she'd never told him she preferred bourbon. And then there was how some days she found a patchwork dress lying out for her already in her bedroom/dressing room.

That was a rare occurrence, but the day she went out to secure King George a second James, she found just the sort of dress she wanted to wear to put the fear of Darkness With Style into James II: A red-brown-and-gold silk and leather and gingham number, with a russet-brown velvet corset-style bodice with black lacy sleeves and trimming along the low neckline.

Belle threw it on and recalled this one did a bit of magic with the bust and was warm enough to highlight the red tones in her hair. Each of her "Dark One Dresses" was custom-made for her and her alone, Belle didn't have the body of a fashionable lady: She was short with small breasts and a bit pear-shaped at the hip. Anything Gaston, or her father, commissioned for her was made to give her a tiny waist and attempted to flaunt cleavage that just wasn't there in ways that made Belle feel too much like a dress-up doll.

So why the hell had she enjoyed wearing a dress Rumpelstiltskin set out on her bed for her? Probably because he had unexpectedly good taste. Yes. Just the sort of thing Belle would want to wear, flirty without being scandalous. It had very little to do with the man at all, really.

And if she wanted him to see her when her business was finished, enjoyed telling him about her day while he was busy knitting away, (which seemed to distract him, so Belle made a note to keep some yarn around for his use,) that was her business.

Belle wondered if Rumpelstiltskin had ever been married. He was certainly no David the Shepherd Boy, a chiseled diamond in the handsome rough waiting to be brought to a sickening shine. But he had such sweet brown eyes, a gentle soul, and a clever mind matched by clever hands, that surely there must've been a few girls that would've recognized his worth?

* * *

_His son was smaller than other children his age, but healthy and strong for his reedy frame. He had a mop of dark curls and shining dark eyes and a bright smile that was starting to return after his mother...died._

_He was such a coward, he hated himself when the boy looked at him like he'd hung the stars._

_Eight years had passed from that first moment Baelfire was thrust into his arms. Less like the tiny babe he'd rocked to sleep while Milah either sneered at him in contempt or sat out at a tavern, less like the chubby toddler who clambered into his lap while he spun. More like a man. And he hoped the Ogre War would end before that day truly came._

_They lowered the age from twenty to eighteen._

_Sixteen._

_A girl dragged away on the back of a leering knight's horse._

_She was **fourteen**..._

* * *

Belle was the Dark One, the darkest of the dark, a wicked creature, the thing that things that went bump in the night were afraid of, the ghoul who haunted the dreams of the strongest of men and frightened children on cold winter nights in the form of exaggerated tales of evil deeds.

But when she sensed Regina moving through the halls of her castle, Belle felt a blind flash of panic.

Rumpelstiltskin had been with her for...umm...two months or so? Almost three. He'd started creeping out of whatever depression he'd fallen into, trembling less and smiling more. He looked younger when he smiled, less battered. There had been a lull in deals at the time and Belle had enjoyed lounging around her castle like a lazy patchwork cat and having short, meaningless little chats here and there with another human being that didn't recoil from her. He wasn't _special_ to her, of course not.

But the idea of Regina so much as smirking at Rumpelstiltskin was terrifying. The Queen would look far too much into...whatever relationship they had, and only use it against Belle. She had to hide the poor man, or stop Regina from pushing any further into her castle. Belle poofed down to the Great Room just before Regina could knock the doors open and turned to where Rumpelstiltskin had been sweeping earlier.

"You should do something about those locks Belle," Regina snickered. "So flimsy. Anyone could walk right in."

Belle didn't pay Regina any mind. The broom and her caretaker were missing, and a hot pot of tea with two cups sat on the table.

_'Why was that there?'_

Regina immediately helped herself to the tea, and Belle had to feign attention while the Queen began complaining about- _who else?-_ Snow White. All the while her former student outlined the latest insult inflicted by the princess, Belle sat with a cup of tea in her hands, wondering how on Earth the tray wound up on the table in the first place. Could Rumpelstiltskin have known that Regina would be coming?

With Regina mollified and sent off owing Belle a favor later on, (typical,) the Dark One stayed seated and pondered the empty teapot.

Hmm...

* * *

_It was slaughter._

_Blood and broken bones and pulverized flesh._

_Teeth gnashing._

_Screams._

_Death filled the air and the field was so red it was black with the bodies of the soldiers._

_The children, Baelfire._

_And then..._

_"I'll take him."_

* * *

Her caretaker was curled up in a ball, pressing his head against his knees while he whimpered on the kitchen floor, staff abandoned.

Belle had every intention of asking him how he knew Regina would be visiting, but instead she found herself crouching beside him, her hands fluttering uncertainly. "Rumple? Hey, Rumple? Are you hurt? What's the matter? Rumpelstiltskin?"

Suddenly, his head jerked up and he faced her. His pupils were pin-pricks, dark irises shimmering in the whites of his wide eyes. Rumpelstiltskin shook violently and rasped in a dry, tight voice: "The Queen will kill him! She'll kill him! His heart and-and the curse! The fog! The headless hatter and-"

"Rumpelstiltskin!" Belle grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a rough shake that jarred his head. "What are you talking about?!"

She couldn't lie: He was scaring her.

But as soon as she touched him, Rumpelstiltskin went completely limp, slumping into her arms and gasping against her neck. Belle didn't even really care. She just pulled him closer and pressed her fingers against his throat, feeling his rapidly thrumming pulse. She ignored the wetness against her smooth skin and how arms wrapped tight around her waist, clinging fearfully. As soon as she ascertained whether or not this man was going to have a heart attack from stress, Belle would be embarrassed. Or annoyed. Or blush. But nothing before he was okay.

A soft whine caught her attention and a shiver ran down her spine as soft lips brushed her throat accidentally.

"'m sorry..."

"What?" Belle blinked.

"I-I'm sorry, m'lady, I'm sorry-" what the hell was he apologizing for? "I-I'm so sorry, I shoul-"

"Stop," Belle chided as gentle as possible, pushing him into an upright position so she could see his face in front of her. Tears were starting to run down Rumpelstiltskin's gaunt face and Belle couldn't tell if they were from fear or shame. Either way, she brushed them away. And she didn't miss how her caretaker's eyes slid shut and he leaned into her touch like a cat.

How long had it been since anyone willingly touched him?

"Okay, that's it, breathe," she nodded. "Good. Now, what was...what was all... _that_ , about?"

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed thickly, removing his hands from her waist and curling them against his thighs. "I-"

"If you say you're sorry again I will scream."

A mildly hysterical giggle bubbled out of his mouth. "Y-yes m'lady...I-I jus-It's just I-I'm...I'm not mad, m'lady, I'm not! I promise! I'm not mad!"

He seemed so frantic to assure of that, and Belle simply waited for him to explain.

"I...s-sometimes I see...things."

Belle waited another minute and realized that was all Rumpelstiltskin was offering to explain it. She bit her lip and repeated, "Things?"

"A-aye," he nodded jerkily. "I see things. S-sometimes they're...terrible things. I c-can't stop them, o-or ignore them. I've tried. N-nothing works. I d-don't even know when it happens it just...does."

Something clicked in Belle's mind.

"You don't just see disaster, do you?" she said. "You see...little things, sometimes? Like how, say, a person would take their tea?"

Rumpelstiltskin smiled weakly.

Well...suddenly things made a lot of sense. That was the magic power she was sensing, foresight.

"You're a Seer."

"I...s'pose so, yes," he shrugged. "It's not...it's not good for much but-"

"But you can see the future! That's a little amazing!"

Belle was very impressed, but her curse flared up greedily at the back of her mind. The Darkness craved more power, always more. _"With powers like that? To see the future? To know the outcome? You need that! Take it from him!"_

She pushed it back as Rumpelstiltskin shook his head quickly.

"No it's not! Y-you don't know what it's like t-to see...see all these jumbledy bits, all out of place in your head, all the time. A-and by the time you piece together a picture it's like looking at it backwards a-and sometimes...s-sometimes you don't get it right until it's too late..."

Belle nibbled on her lower lip thoughtfully. All magic was supposed to come with a price. What was the price of that kind of power, anyway? Her curiosity rose and Belle couldn't stop herself from asking, "How did you get this...gift?"

'Gift' seemed to be the wrong word entirely, because Rumpelstiltskin grimaced and dropped his gaze to his lap.

"I was a fool. Years ago, when the Ogre Wars began in the Frontlands, I was such a fool that I was happy to be drafted into the slaughter. Oh, then it was all about honor and bravery. Back when you could still find eager young farm boys willing to prove themselves. Before they all died and the Duke set his sights on younger and younger soldiers. I...I was in a camp, just out of training. And there was this...this sort of cart, with a tarp over the top. I was supposed to be watching it, to make sure no one went near it but then..."

One fluttering hand waved in a sort of "uncover" motion. "I lifted the tarp and there was this child in a cage. A little girl, with red hair and...and she had no eyes, but she did, but they were, ah, in her hands? She had this voice, too, that echoed, and she asked me for a cup of water. So I gave it to her and then she...she grabbed my hands and I blacked out. When I came to, not too long later, the girl was gone and I started...I started seeing things. I saw my wife at home, holding a baby in front of the hearth, I heard a man saying they would ride cows into battle. I-I knew that I had a son at home. A son that, if I followed cows into battle, I-I would never see him. I had to get out of there and...and I took a hammer..."

Belle felt her eyes widen. So that's why he limped.

Gods above...

"And..." she hesitated. "Did you find him? Your son?"

Rumpelstiltskin nodded slowly.

"H-he wasn't more than a few days old when I...when I was sent home. My wife she...she didn't want to hear any excuses. She was angry and humiliated that I brought home a legacy of shame and cowardic-"

"What the hell is her problem?" Belle blurted angrily. "You came back for her and your son!"

Her caretaker looked at her like she was speaking in elvish and Belle wondered why. She couldn't claim she'd be okay with a husband crushing his foot and hobbling home, but she'd be angry that he hurt himself. Not that he'd come home from an impossible war.

"It didn't...matter, really," Rumpelstiltskin cleared his throat. "She...she left. With a pirate. I-I'm not sure, actually, what happened to her but in those first few days I...I knew she'd leave me for someone in a tavern. Sometimes I wonder if...if maybe I didn't try hard enough. Maybe I gave up."

Belle was going to slap him, and not because he didn't try hard enough. It was that self-loathing tone that was making her so angry, but then he went and gave her a feeble smile with watery brown eyes.

"Wasn't so bad, really. Once she left. At...at least until Bae was about ten. I-I saw...I saw Ogres...destroying child soldiers in a field. No older than fourteen. And...and oh gods," he choked. "I-I didn't realize until they took another girl from the village, just before his birthday, that the age of conscription had dropped. I limped to the Duke and tried to make a deal. I-if he had only pulled the soldiers off the Western plain, then the Ogres would've starved. Or left. But instead the O-Oh gods, they wouldn't listen! They kicked my staff from under me and threw me into the dungeons, called me mad and-I never even got to say goodbye. I never got to say goodbye before they took my son!"

Belle listened to the tale that ended in quiet sobs and trembles, a tale of sorrow and loss unfathomable. She resolved to liquefy the Duke and his entire bloodline. Then a tentative brush of fingers against the thin skin of her wrist distracted her.

Her curse recoiled, practically hissing at the unexpected warmth shooting up Belle's arm. She could feel...a light. Clean air. Belle unconsciously twined her fingers with the long fingers of her caretaker, admiring the rough callouses and the gentle heat of his skin, seeking more of the lightness.

She almost pulled away when her eyes locked with Rumpelstiltskin.

They were calm. Deep, dark, and calm. His pupils slowly dilated and his eyelids drooped, fine lines smoothing out. Suddenly Rumpelstiltskin looks a good five years younger and soothed, not unlike a sleepy cat. A little tendril of that infectious calm curled in her belly and Belle relaxed.

"I..." her caretaker faltered. "My head isn't so loud, when I'm with you. I-I mean...'s quiet, n-not as jarring."

Belle tried to shake off the delicious languid feeling weighing her down. There was a reason for that. Why was there a reason for that? Oh.

"It might be because..." Belle bit her lip. "Because we're both marked by a curse. Two curses cancel each other out. That, uh, that's why you never hear about a monster saving a princess from a sleeping curse. Y'know?"

Rumpelstiltskin licked his dry lips. Belle wondered why that was so fascinating.

"I-I never put much thought into tales of monsters and princesses, honestly."

Belle smiled, allowing herself to squeeze his fingers before she let go. The Darkness jumped back, quivering with indignation at having been muffled for so long, but Belle ignored it again. Her caretaker looked down at his hands, tapping out patterns on his legs, and he cleared his throat.

"Um," he grasped for his staff. "I-I'll just, uh, I'll get back to work, m'lady. Th-thank you for your concern."

Belle was torn between letting him go and pulling him back down on the floor. She decided on the former. The second option would've just given the poor dear a heart attack.

When he was out of the kitchens, Belle recalled him fretting about a curse. The only curse Belle had been fiddling with lately was...the Dark Curse. Hmm.

The only person Belle knew that was desperate and angry enough to cast such a horrible spell was Regina...a spell that would ruin everything anyone in their land loved. _'No more happy endings,'_ Belle recalled, looking at the empty doorway.

No. She would not be giving Regina a curse anytime soon.

* * *

_Darkness._

_Darkness all around, musty and dank._

_Rough hands and bright lights. It was a normal level of illumination but months in the dark made it so very bright outside the dungeons._

_His knees ached where he was dropped on them, his ankle screamed._

_A gentle hand passed over his head, the bluest eyes he had ever seen._

_"I'll take him."_

_And then... **peace**..._

* * *

In the middle of spring, Belle sat reading in the library when she looked over at her caretaker, picking up other books she'd abandoned on an end table. For no reason other than because she could, Belle went over and helped him. She took a few books he couldn't quite carry with only one free hand, and together they put them away.

Rumpelstiltskin was taller than she was, but only just. Still, five inches was five inches, and he put the books away while Belle handed them to him. When the last book was being slid onto the shelf, Belle had made up her mind, and once her caretaker turned to her...

She pressed a light kiss to the end of his prominent nose.

And Rumpelstiltskin turned bright pink, his mouth gaping open at her. Belle giggled, not her unsettling, mad giggle, but a pleased little sound. Then she could have purred when thin-but-soft lips pressed over hers, Rumpelstiltskin lightly cupping her cheek.

Belle could feel her curse squirming unhappily, protesting the warm-and-fuzzies, but that sensation faded in the wake of the effervescent joy bubbling up from the pit of her stomach.

It faded more with the second kiss.

And third.

Somehow they ended up collapsed on the window seat in a tangle of limbs, Rumpelstiltskin's staff clattering on the floor in favor of his hands stroking down her back and tangling in her hair. The loose bun Belle had was knocked into disarray and she allowed Rumpelstiltskin to pluck the pins out, so her auburn curls fell free while they caught their breath. She curled up against his chest, listening to his heart beating under his shirt and planting the odd kiss against his throat and collar.

This felt so right, and Belle momentarily mourned the time they wasted when they could have been curled up here-

Rumpelstiltskin's hands stilled, and suddenly she heard him laugh.

When she raised her head to ask him what was so funny, he kissed her forehead.

With a beautiful, crooked grin, Rumpelstiltskin chuckled warmly, tucking an errant curl behind her pale ear. "Would you believe I predicted this, dearie?"

Belle bit her lip, trying, and failing to hide a matching grin. "No, but I'd call you a charming liar."

"Hmph. And here I thought you had more faith in your Seer."

A few of Rumpelstiltskin's visions had directly involved Belle's dealings. Now that he wasn't trying to press them down, his visions were less painful and violent. And very, very helpful. One of them kept her out of a nasty trap set by the Blue Fairy, another let her know thing for Regina was to hook Snow White up with David the Shepherd Boy. When she asked him how exactly that would help, he looked thoughtful and simply said, "I think it would be better than cursing the entire forest, but I can't say why."

Belle could agree with that and had tactfully played dumb when Regina came asking about the Dark Curse. That sort of power would only prove self-destructive, for one thing.

And for another, Belle had her own happy ending here to fight for now.

"So be it," she hummed, brushing his hair out of his soft brown eyes. "Tell me then, my Seer. What happens next?"


End file.
